Fanfic100 Prompts #037 - Sound, #083 - And
Looks like I'm in a Silm mood right now.
Title: Two
Fandom: J. R. R. Tolkien
Characters: Eärendil, Elwing
Prompt: 037 - Sound
Word Count: 379
Rating: G
Summary: An extraordinary session with a healer.
Author's Notes: Everything belongs to the Professor.
The two women eyed him in simultaneous expectation. Realizing he was holding his breath, Eärendil let it out carefully. Both of them looked far too calm.
"Come, my lord," said the healer, giving the strange trumpet-shaped device in her hand a little wave, a sort of beckoning gesture. A quick glance over at Elwing's face met only with the inscrutable hint of a grin. He drew in another deep breath, took a step forward. The Elf-woman pushed the trumpet against his wife's bare stomach--much too hard, he thought--as he knelt and bent his ear.
The first noise he heard was a low roar, or a rushing tide, rising and falling in slow rhythm, endless, vast. The ocean, thought Eärendil in a moment of ludicrous bewilderment. The ocean that enveloped all the world.
"Her bloodstream," answered the healer, though he had asked no question. Already her voice was nothing more than an infinitely distant echo. "Here."
The device slid across Elwing's skin, then he caught the steady pounding of a drumbeat, shockingly loud. His eyes widened.
"No, no," laughed the woman, reaching across to shift the trumpet again. "That is the mother's."
"Oh," muttered Eärendil. Feeling foolish, he put his ear to the trumpet's end again, and then all of a sudden there it was: a swift, confused pattering within like the running motion of small feet--more small feet than he could count. Almost instantly, he pulled back, alarmed; surely something was badly wrong. Even he knew it could not be like this, so rhythmless and much, much faster than could possibly be right. Why in the name of all the Valar were they still so calm?
"It sounds thus because one is beating slightly faster than the other," said the healer, as if that was a perfectly good explanation.
A long while passed before an intimation of her meaning filtered into his consciousness. Every nerve strained to the edge, he leaned down to listen again, trying to keep count, and gradually the noise began to resolve and make a bit more sense. It was another while before he looked back up. Elwing was smiling, one of those rare smiles that reached right into her eyes. He had never seen her so radiant.
Title: News
Fandom: J. R. R. Tolkien
Characters: Eärendil, Finarfin
Prompt: 083 - And
Word Count: 249
Rating: G
Summary: The first meeting between the King of the Noldor in Aman and the newly arrived messenger from Middle-earth.
Author's Notes: Everything belongs to the Professor.
The King had arrived straight from Tirion, striding swiftly into the room and greeting the visitor with a warm familial embrace. Little Itarillë's son, he said, gaze searching the young messenger's face. Not only for reminders of his kin, Eärendil could tell. The others soon left the two of them alone.
"Fëanáro, your eldest brother. In the first Battle under the Stars."
There was a silence. Outside the windows, the bells of Valmar sang.
"It is..." began the King, then paused to collect himself. "It is--perhaps not entirely surprising to me. And others?"
"His sons. Tyelkormo, Carnistir, Curufinwë," he pronounced the Quenya names carefully, then decided not to talk about the circumstances. Not now.
Another silence.
"Go on, please," said Finarfin at last.
"The twins, Ambarussa, Ambarto." These two names were difficult for himself. He would not speak more of them.
"And?" The question was asked very quietly.
"Nolofinwë, your second brother. In single battle with the Enemy."
"And," repeated the King, the single word expressionless.
"Findekáno, at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears..."
"And."
"Irissë his sister, the White Lady..."
"And."
"Turukáno, their brother, my grandfather..."
With an abrupt movement, the King turned away, pacing to the window and staring out, his shoulders stiff. After a long while, he turned to face his youngest kinsman again, outwardly composed once more, no tears in his eyes. This time, he did not ask out aloud. Eärendil did not speak immediately, but took a moment to steel himself. The hardest part was still to come.
Table here
Title: Two
Fandom: J. R. R. Tolkien
Characters: Eärendil, Elwing
Prompt: 037 - Sound
Word Count: 379
Rating: G
Summary: An extraordinary session with a healer.
Author's Notes: Everything belongs to the Professor.
The two women eyed him in simultaneous expectation. Realizing he was holding his breath, Eärendil let it out carefully. Both of them looked far too calm.
"Come, my lord," said the healer, giving the strange trumpet-shaped device in her hand a little wave, a sort of beckoning gesture. A quick glance over at Elwing's face met only with the inscrutable hint of a grin. He drew in another deep breath, took a step forward. The Elf-woman pushed the trumpet against his wife's bare stomach--much too hard, he thought--as he knelt and bent his ear.
The first noise he heard was a low roar, or a rushing tide, rising and falling in slow rhythm, endless, vast. The ocean, thought Eärendil in a moment of ludicrous bewilderment. The ocean that enveloped all the world.
"Her bloodstream," answered the healer, though he had asked no question. Already her voice was nothing more than an infinitely distant echo. "Here."
The device slid across Elwing's skin, then he caught the steady pounding of a drumbeat, shockingly loud. His eyes widened.
"No, no," laughed the woman, reaching across to shift the trumpet again. "That is the mother's."
"Oh," muttered Eärendil. Feeling foolish, he put his ear to the trumpet's end again, and then all of a sudden there it was: a swift, confused pattering within like the running motion of small feet--more small feet than he could count. Almost instantly, he pulled back, alarmed; surely something was badly wrong. Even he knew it could not be like this, so rhythmless and much, much faster than could possibly be right. Why in the name of all the Valar were they still so calm?
"It sounds thus because one is beating slightly faster than the other," said the healer, as if that was a perfectly good explanation.
A long while passed before an intimation of her meaning filtered into his consciousness. Every nerve strained to the edge, he leaned down to listen again, trying to keep count, and gradually the noise began to resolve and make a bit more sense. It was another while before he looked back up. Elwing was smiling, one of those rare smiles that reached right into her eyes. He had never seen her so radiant.
Title: News
Fandom: J. R. R. Tolkien
Characters: Eärendil, Finarfin
Prompt: 083 - And
Word Count: 249
Rating: G
Summary: The first meeting between the King of the Noldor in Aman and the newly arrived messenger from Middle-earth.
Author's Notes: Everything belongs to the Professor.
The King had arrived straight from Tirion, striding swiftly into the room and greeting the visitor with a warm familial embrace. Little Itarillë's son, he said, gaze searching the young messenger's face. Not only for reminders of his kin, Eärendil could tell. The others soon left the two of them alone.
"Fëanáro, your eldest brother. In the first Battle under the Stars."
There was a silence. Outside the windows, the bells of Valmar sang.
"It is..." began the King, then paused to collect himself. "It is--perhaps not entirely surprising to me. And others?"
"His sons. Tyelkormo, Carnistir, Curufinwë," he pronounced the Quenya names carefully, then decided not to talk about the circumstances. Not now.
Another silence.
"Go on, please," said Finarfin at last.
"The twins, Ambarussa, Ambarto." These two names were difficult for himself. He would not speak more of them.
"And?" The question was asked very quietly.
"Nolofinwë, your second brother. In single battle with the Enemy."
"And," repeated the King, the single word expressionless.
"Findekáno, at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears..."
"And."
"Irissë his sister, the White Lady..."
"And."
"Turukáno, their brother, my grandfather..."
With an abrupt movement, the King turned away, pacing to the window and staring out, his shoulders stiff. After a long while, he turned to face his youngest kinsman again, outwardly composed once more, no tears in his eyes. This time, he did not ask out aloud. Eärendil did not speak immediately, but took a moment to steel himself. The hardest part was still to come.
Table here